


Who The Bleep Did I Marry?!

by AdHominemArgument



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-07 02:28:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1114414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdHominemArgument/pseuds/AdHominemArgument
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Titled after the hit Investigation Discovery channel show of the same title, what happens when a spouse finds themselves consumed by the emotion of one of the seven deadly sins? Their spouse quickly finds themselves wondering, ‘Who The Bleep Did I Marry?!” *This is a smut central fic. Themes include three-some and peeping Tom. EXPLICIT* A fun take on what happens when the seven deadly sins get smutty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lust

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me in any capacity. Ichabod Crane, Lieutenant Abbie Mills, and cast belong to Washington Irving and Fox.
> 
> A/N- This story, based on the Seven Deadly Sins is a one-shot series for the challenge on Destiny’s Gateway. It will be posted on that website as well. I’m going to try to tie in the next sin in the last couple of sentences of the chapter but no promises though! I’m also responding to the challenge with another series for Castle entitled, ‘Seven Forbidden Fruits.’ Feel free to go check that out as well! 
> 
> Please don’t forget, my other story ‘Something More’, may be lacking in the update department while I’m trying to juggle these. I don’t plan on it but with everything else going on my time may be stretched pretty thin.  
> R&R please 

Lust

Lust : Lust or lechery is an intense desire. It is usually thought of as excessive sexual want; however, the word is a general term for desire. 

XxX

Westchester County Police Department, Cir. Two years ago

It had started… Again. Well, it had started a couple of times since he had first laid eyes on her, this new addition to the force, but it had always started out this way. He would watch her across the room; his eyes would follow her every movement like a hawk’s. He would study her as a predator learns his prey. Every pose was familiar to him, he knew that when she rubbed her forehead and repeated the last statement made that she was royally pissed, to the point of pulling out her service weapon and taking care of business. The many nuts and bolts that complicatedly compiled her entire being was so deliciously sexy that she often took his breath away. And it had only been six months. How was he supposed to survive any longer when she had him on the verge of weeping from wanting her so badly? She was all sweet smile, wide eyes, bad ass attitude, and a gun. Wrapped in one little package that stood barely 5 feet tall.

Presently, she stands across the bullpen facing him, backside resting against her desk. He gives her an approving look from head to toe, drinking in everything about her. He feels as if she’s standing in a supremely confident manner, her whole posture screaming, I know I look good just to taunt him. To let him know that she knows he finds her attractive. She wears her trademark black boots; boots that come mid-calf and have an at least four inch heel. Her jeans, curve hugging and also black, leave little of her sweet, sweet ass to the imagination. However she can’t help it, this he knows. Her body is built like a brick house. She recently had started to layer Oxfords with vests underneath her customary black leather bomber jacket. He wonders if the jacket has some significance to her seeing as she is rarely seen without it, whether it hangs from the back of her chair or it’s on her person. Today is no different and it is driving him batshit insane. The deep red of her Oxford is absolutely sinful against her skin complexion, the top two buttons she left undone gave him a glimpse of the black lace bra she’d worn underneath, the back of the color peeking through. Jesus. She is completely oblivious to the way his narrowed gaze follows her around the room; that or she has developed immunity to it. He surmises that works in his advantage because he doesn’t know her well enough to get caught drooling every time she chances a glance in his direction. The few times they’d happen to lock eyes before he was fast enough to look away, he’d seen it in her eyes too. The lust. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. 

Reaching behind her for a file, her hair –which she’d worn down for him, he just knows it- comes to rest on her shoulder. She bites her perfectly glossed lip and skims the page, still ignoring him. He had to find out her problem. Maybe she deals with her lust just as poorly as he does and it manifests itself in the form of irritation. Or maybe she is genuinely irritated with being watched and lusted after like a piece of meat. Either way, she has a job to do and does it well. Her almond shaped eyes bob up and down as she reads. 

Sighing loudly, he shifts in his chair, neglecting his own file that has laid untouched for some time in front of him. It was a quiet day at the station and they each have had time to catch up on their reports, which gives him a reason to slack off and watch her. Boy what he wouldn’t give to have her bobbing up and down in front of him… Stop it, he chides himself and get some work done. He can’t focus, the urge to go over to her and take her in his arms is too strong. He can’t remember the last time, if ever, he wanted a woman so badly. Deciding now is a good time for coffee; he stands with a growl, rolls his neck and walks in the opposite direction from her towards the coffee pot. 

Taking three tries, -he either poured too much causing it to spill over or poked holes in the cup because he was grabbing it to hard- he pours the tar colored liquid into the Styrofoam cup and takes a sip chancing a glance over his shoulder at her. Still biting that lip and reading. It was her mouth that did him in most of the time. The things he imagined she could do with it, do to him with it, were often times to much for his imagination and he found himself reaching for a cup of ice water or taking a long hard run. Unable to take a run now, the water would do him no good right now, he takes a no cautionary gulp, wanting to run his tongue along that lip of hers and pull it out with his own teeth. Shit. He opens his mouth over his cup and lets it fall out his mouth. Not only is it cold, he scrapes his tongue along the bottom of his two front teeth, but it also tastes like battery acid. In fact, the small amount he’d accidentally swallowed burns a little where it went down his esophagus.

“Why can I never get a fresh cup of coffee?” He yells loudly to no one in particular causing a few heads to turn in his direction. He chances a look at her. With an amused grin due to his outburst she wets her thumb and turns the page. She knows what she is doing to him. She has to, how could she not. Apparently done with her file, she pushes herself off the edge of her desk and walks towards the captain’s office without so much a backwards glance at him. He turns to make a fresh pot when he realizes she isn’t returning from the office anytime soon. 

XxX

Westchester County Police Department, Present Day

He stalks over to her and drops a file on her desk. It’s been two years and she still makes him mad with lust. It’s a daily battle of will, not to take her against the desk in the middle of their shifts right here in the bull pen. She is a walking sex symbol that he daily wants to bow down and worship, but instead he finds reasons to pick fights, get her all worked up so he can imagine what she looks like all hot and bothered.

“Something wrong Morales?” She doesn’t look up from her computer, not bothering to give in to his daily display of idiocy. He glares at her, unable to speak, the rage of lust coursing too violently through his veins, knowing he has no reason to be angry in the first place. She smiles, not sweetly, but not entirely lustily, and he explodes.

“What do you think Lieutenant? I’m so sick of your attitude. Day in and day out you continually…” She wipes spittle from her face and raises an eyebrow at him. He realizes she must think he’s a raging lunatic but he doesn’t care, he has to get his tension out somehow and if he has to make himself look like an ass to do it, then so be it. Her sweater, soft black cashmere, rises slightly in the back, giving him a view of the delectable looking skin above her pant line, as she reaches for a file from the edge of her desk, not bothering to give him an answer. In the beginning of her employment with the Westchester PD, she’d rage right back at him, tell him he was an idiot and often ask him how he managed to become employed by the state of New York. She yawns and the thoughts going through his mind are so purely sinful that he momentarily forgets why he’s angry. A crack of thunder and a flash of lightening capture both their attentions and they turn to the window to watch the storm clouds move in.  
She turns back to him, sliding the simple gold cross that hangs from her neck back and forth, seemingly lost in thought. She had begun to do that often, especially since the weird ass Professor Oxford had shown up. At first, he thought they were sleeping together and that in and of itself created a whole slew of problems but he realized that they were nothing more than colleagues, their relationship as close to sibling as to non blood related people could get. Which meant, he doesn’t have to hurt Ichabod Crane and he still had a chance with her. 

“I love storms.” The way her mouth makes a perfect circular “O” when she says the “or” in storms makes him twitch in an extremely sensitive area. It takes him a second to compute that she’s begun speaking again his mind is in the deep, dark closet where she is his and he can do whatever he wants to to that sweet little body of hers. 

“Even if I have to be stuck at my desk all day, I do love the storms.” She gives him a small wink and he neglects all the anger that he had moments ago been raging inside him and leans down next to her ear. He swears her feels her shiver and smiles in victory. 

“You know what I love?” He begins moving her hair behind her ear. She offers a word, more like an uttered squeak, in reply. “I love to make love during rainstorms. Hot. Passionate. Rough.” His hand brushes her arm and he leans in slightly further. Her body is humming with it; he can feel it from the casual brush against her arm. God he wants her underneath him so badly he almost pulls her from her chair to take her somewhere private.

“Detective.” She whimpers looking around. It’s quiet at the station house today and he’s thankful for it, not that it would prevent him doing exactly as he is now. He’s waited long enough to just get this close to her. She looks on the verge of panic. She grips the arms of her chair, small fingers flexing and relaxing continually. 

“This is extremely inappropriate. You’re making me…” He nips her earlobe silencing her and she bites her lip and closes her eyes. He needs to calm down or this will all end right here without either of them getting the amount of delicious friction they both have wanted for so long.

“Tell me.” He reaches down and places a hand on her knee. “Have you wanted me for as long as I’ve wanted you?” 

“Since the first day we met.” She moans leaning up to gaze into his lust filled eyes. That’s it. He grabs her hand and pulls her to her feet and before she has a chance to register what indeed has transpired, or lose her confidence, she’s in a hall bathroom and he’s flipping the lock. He’s advancing on her predatorily, chest heaving from both lust and practically carrying her to the bathroom, and she’s backing away until she meet the handicapped bar in the stall.  
“Luke.” Her voice is a whisper even to her own ears and she cradles his cheek, each looking at him, unsure of where to go. He’s wanted her for so long he’s not sure his own body can respond the way he thought it would. So much for making her writhe and scream. Her hand trembles lightly on his cheek and the way she’s gazing up at him makes him think she’s waiting for him to make the move. Fair enough, he did yank her from her chair and into the bathroom. Currently however, his body is playing dead and his mind is stuck on stupid and he’s pretty sure they’re going to spend this entire amount of time staring at each other until someone needs to pee and finds a janitor because the door is locked and the bathroom is empty.

She stands on tiptoes and gazes into his eyes as she licks her lips. “Luke?” He hears the question on her lips and falters. Has he waited too long? Is she about to tell him to forget it? Or, is she making sure he’s going to make a move. Option three. Definitely that one. 

“Stay with me.” She laughs and kisses him deeply, her tongue darting out between her soft, luscious lips to come and play with his. Her kiss spurs him into action and he takes her hips, gently exploring her mouth. Savoring, not devouring. She breaks the kiss for air and offers him her throat which he willingly tastes. She’s grinding into him and his eyes cross, he knew she’d be a sex goddess, he’s just sad he doesn’t have a bed to pay proper homage to her. She cups him through his jeans and grips his chin.

“Bored?” The Abbie Mills attitude is in full force and he offers a shamed smirk. “Think we can get a few rounds in before someone starts looking for us?” A clap of thunder that rattles the old building delays his response. He gapes at her. Who is this woman he’s been lusting after?

“Rounds?” He emphasizes the S. “As in, rounds. More than one. Non singular?” She giggles and slowly, teasingly, unzips his jeans. He starts to unbuckle his belt when her hands cover his.

“No.” She winks. “I’m going to go talk to him, mano-a-mano.” That shouldn’t turn him on as much as it does but he feels his cock twitch in reply. She stares up at him boldly as she deftly drops to her knees and frees him from his boxers. His head hangs back and all he can think is that his lustful fantasies about Abigail Mills are coming true. She’s on her knees in front of him in the bathroom at work, while on the clock with nothing but his dick hanging out his pants for fun.

“Ay dios mio.” He breathes on a grateful sigh when her tongue flicks the tip. She places a kiss on his shaft and when she winks up at him, he springs to action. Wrapping her fingers around his base she moans as she works her way up his shaft with her tongue. 

“I wonder if anyone saw me drag you in here.” She clucks her tongue against the roof of her mouth with him still inside it and the vibrations makes him jump against her cheek.

“Focus Morales.” She chuckles then proceeds with her ministrations. Squeezing his balls, she sucks on his tip causing him to arch his back against the wall. She tries to grin with a mouthful of him and wraps her hand tightly around his base. She hums against him, a hum that turns into a deep guttural moan when he wraps a fistful of her hair in his hand and yanks hard.

“You… Don’t…” She doesn’t give him time to finish because as soon as she feels his body begin to tremble she quickens her pace and once he begins to consistently yank on her hair she flicks her tongue once more and tastes him. She swallows what he offers and looking up at him she licks her lips with a wink.

“Guess you aren’t bored huh?” She says this with a cocky grin and it serves to make him stiff and aching for her. This is a bad idea, he thinks as he pulls her up roughly. He realizes he’s never going to get enough of her. Only one thing he can do at present though. 

“I’ve waited so long to be able to take you.” He growls as he positions her face first against the cold tile of the bathroom wall. She leverages herself with the handicap bar and when he goes to unbutton her jeans, his lust causes him to pop the button clean off.

“God damn it, these are my favorite jeans. They make my ass look good.” She growls back at him. He gives her rear a hard smack and nips her earlobe. He can’t help himself so he smacks again, causing her to whimper out his name.

“Please.” She whispers trying to grind into him. He ignores her pushing her jeans down her slim hips to come to rest at the tops of her boots. He takes in the sight of her round, very round ass in the skimpy little thong and offers a generous smack.

“Someone… will… hear…” She breathes clearly turned on. She reaches behind her and grabs his hand. Using his hand to slide her thong to the side she runs his index finger along her folds then runs then along her bottom lip. He lets out an unmanly squeak. 

“Jesus Christ Abbie.” She sucks on his fingers then slides them down to the throbbing area again. 

“Inside me Luke. Please.” She grips the rails letting him control his own hand.

“You’re begging Abs, it’s not attractive.” He teases dipping in and out of her opening. She’s so open and ready for him he’s tempted to take her now but he knows that in order to prevent it from ending as quickly as his first one did he needs to take his time. Instead, he strokes her clit slowly, sucking on the side of her neck. With his other hand he strokes himself, deliriously turned on by what they are doing.

“Three years is a long time,” She leans her head back against his chin and looks up at him through lust hazy eyes. She bites her lip and swivels her hips trying to take him in deeper. Her hair brushes against his lips. “Wouldn’t you say?” She groans when he slips another finger inside and begins to thrust. 

“It is a long time.” He grits out trying to remain in control. He kisses her, deeply only for her to break the kiss with a breathy, “Oh Luke,” and a pout when his fingers leave her feeling empty and craving. Positioning himself at her entrance he gives her the tip, and captures her mouth with his again. With a small thrust he fucks her with just the tip, making her writhe, moan, and whimper against him. She’s thrusting back and biting his lower lip and when she begins to shake he realizes that he’s dragged this out long enough, they’ve wasted enough time waiting. Gripping her hips he slams into her not bothering to cover her mouth when she cries out, not hearing when the door handle begins to jiggle, and not responding when someone calls from the other side of the door.  
He reaches around her and rubs her clit quickly, pinching it every few seconds to make her jump and clench against him. Their bodies make a slapping noise as both thrust their way to release.

“I’m going to…” She begins her legs shaking with pre release. He too feels his own body begin to lose it and bites her shoulder roughly. He’ll apologize later for the teeth marks he knows he’s going to leave later. She squeezes her breasts and whimpers, thrusting faster. With a final deep stroke they reach their goal in unison and he grins at her as she looks back at him.

“That was one hell of an orgasm Morales.” She says hoarsely.

“Always wondered if I’d get the chance to bestow the favor upon you.” He quips giving her a soft peck on the lips. The thunder shakes the building again and she hisses as he pulls out about to complain. That thought dies as he drops to his knees and turns her around to face him. 

“You know,” She begins as she looks down at him. “It’s disgusting out, I bet we can knock off for the day. I do love thunderstorms.” She grins. Before he can reply the door the bathroom opens and Crane is calling out, “Lieutenant?”

“I’m fine! Get out!” She laughs knowing he’s probably more than embarrassed. She’ll deal with him later. She looks at Luke who’s looking at her like he’s ready for another round.

“When I’m finished.” He growls.

XxX

Fingers snapping in his face cause him to pause with his mouth over a very sensitive part of her anatomy. A quick tap, tap, tap of the fingers; he blinks.

“What?” Irving stands in front of him with her, the object of his lustful vision. He licks his dry lips to buy his mind time to clear it of the lustful daydream he’s just had. Irving sighs noisily.

“Can you, or can you not handle being together in the same precinct or am I going to have to break up yet another stupid argument between the two of you like children?” He shakes his head.

“No sir.” They both answer in unison. 

“Good. Because I’ve just placed you on the Paulson case.”

“Welcome to my team.” He says knowing that soon, very soon she will be on his team in another way. She nods, then grins offering her hand. Irving nods hurriedly.

“I’ll leave you two to discuss case notes.” They stand in silence until he departs.

“Luke,” she breathes, body humming for him. “Someone will eventually catch on if you don’t stop watching me like a damn hawk and then picking fights with me because I can’t go jump your bones.” She all but moans it out, aroused by his angry outburst. He lets out an impatient groan.

“That ass is mine later. I have to pretend I don’t know you all day Mrs. Morales.” He proudly says her name, giving her a possessive once over.

“Okay, now go.” She laughs stepping away and wondering with a delicious throbbing, how gluttonous is my husband?

A/N-Today is my birthday! Make it great by dropping a line please!


	2. Gluttony

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me in any capacity. Ichabod Crane, Lieutenant Abbie Mills, and cast belong to Washington Irving and Fox.
> 
> A/N- In this ficlet the characters will be majorly out of character. See the end for additional notes. Also, I’m sorry it’s so short, the next one will be longer I promise!

**xXx**

**Gluttony**

**Derived from the Latin gluttire, meaning to gulp down or swallow, gluttony is the over-indulgence and over-consumption of anything to the point of waste.**

**xXx**

**Wednesday, 11:28 PM**

This type of things always begin so innocently, he thinks as he pulls himself free and strokes himself.

Obsessions.

For instance, one enjoys the work of a musician, feels he can relate to his or her music and so he begins to find other areas of life where he can relate. Or, one reads a book where the author unknowingly creates a character like him and so, he begins to feel the author understands him on a personal level. That is the beginning of obsession. He hadn’t meant to start this; this obsession with watching women. What kind of disgusting pervert is he? He knows that the day is coming when he’s going to get caught; how can he not? Besides, he’s married; he doesn’t need to be reminded he thinks, as he looks down at the thick black band with the simple black cross engraved on the outer rim. The words, “You belong to me” engraved on the inside. He groans. How can he love his wife as much as he does and sneak out at night to watch these women?

She’s doing this on purpose he realizes. Why else has he been able to get a clear view of this delectable body of hers for the last two weeks?

She opens the window, leans over the sill. His blood turns cold as his ability to breathe leaves him standing stock still.

“Is someone there?” Her voice floats to him like a song. Her perfume drifts to him with the breeze. He flattens himself against the siding, knowing he’s being ridiculous. All she needs to do is look down and she’ll see him; dickin hand. Holding his breath he proceeds to stroke himself, breath coming out in short puffs.

“Hello?” She taps her nails on the windowsill, her voice growing impatient. “Look, I’m calling the cops! You’re absolutely disgusting.” He strokes himself quickly, looking up at her. She looks straight out, to the left, then right, but not down at him. Biting his lip upon release, he slinks back into the shadows to go home to his wife.

**Thursday, 5:45 AM**

He raises his eyebrow when he feels the bed shift, a smile involuntarily spreads across his lips, and he pulls her small body against him. He should feel more than he does in a moment such as this. Other parts of him _should_ be wide awake right now, begging entrance into the tight wetness that is her. She groans and stretches like a cat, allowing her backside to fall into his hand as he rubs her body.  

“You came home late last night. What time did you get in?” Although her voice is thick with sleep, there is no accusation, no bitterness, no knowledge that she knows about his nefarious nighttime activities. His beautiful wife; full of curves, all his, and as he lay there feeling her hand close around him he can only do one thing. Think of _nothing._

“A little after midnight. You?” He rolls her onto her back and gently takes a puckered nipple into his mouth then looks up at her. She shivers.

“A little before. Quarter til, maybe?” She lets out a throaty moan as she pushes his head underneath the cover.

An hour later they’re both showered, he’s pouring his coffee, and she’s sliding on a high heeled boot. When her arms snake around his slender waist, he refrains from sighing.

“I love you.” She whispers softly.  “I know things are tough but we’ll get there.” He grips her small hand in his and this time, he audibly sighs.

“I’m trying.” He says gently.

“I know.” He turns to her now, looks into her eyes lovingly.

“Do you want me to come with you?” He cocks his head contemplating her offer. What happens when she hears what he has to say? Maybe it will help. Anything to help rid him of these damned thoughts, he’s truly understanding the meaning of the word obsessed. Deep down he knows that she can handle whatever he has to say because she loves him, fully, unconditionally.

“No, I’m not ready for that yet. For you to hear…” He looks off, refusing to allow himself to be upset.

“Shhh. I understand. I’m here if you need me. I’ll keep my cell on.” He nods and grabs her for a long hug, whispering I love you’s in her ear.

“Thank you.” She smiles lovingly, kisses him softly, and hands him his travel mug.

“Go. You’ll be late.”

**Phillipse Manor Metro-North Station, later on in the morning**

He watches her as she takes the seat next to him, the diamonds on her left ring finger smiling up to him in greeting. She catches him looking at them and slides them around her finger, diamonds facing her inner palm. She winks at him and brushes her finger against his knee. She squeezes a little as she inches her way up his knee and as he watches her watching him he feels his cock jump. He chances a glance around the crowded car to get himself together. His mind is taking him on a visual masturbation trip that he knows he should end. After all, he is married, she is clearly married, and they don’t even know each other’s names. But it’s always been easy for him. This, ability to meet a random stranger and let her get him off. Hell, she’d be sucking him dry right now if they weren’t in a car full of people. But wait, he raises his eyebrows as she grips him firmly, unashamedly; she’d be daring enough to do it. Pure foolishness, he thinks as he crosses his legs. He leans over to ask her name, ask if she’d blow off work to blow him off when the train comes to a halt and she jumps up, straightens her skirt and with a wink and a wave of her sexy fingertips, she saunters off the car and onto the platform. He blows out a breath and leans back against his seat. Shit, that was close.

**Private Office of Laura Meeks, PhD 9 AM**

He looks up when he hears the door open and stands as she enters the room, as all gentlemen should for a woman. Her five inch heels do nothing to add to her short stature, but they do allow him to enjoy her shapely calves. Her dress, professional, yet provocative enough to spark his imagination, earn a long, slow up her body and back down.

“Mr. Crane?” Her voice is soft and terse at once and he smiles, the sound harmonic to his ears. He nods, dumbstruck. He takes her in, momentarily rendered silent. She has a round pleasant face, wide mouth, plump lips that beg to be kissed, a straight nose, and dark brown almond shaped eyes. Skin the complexion of hot cocoa. He feels the twitch in an all too familiar place. His eyes roam down her strong jaw to her long throat. Small breasts.  Dark hair, light skin, pink lips; it does him in. He clears his throat and forces himself to find his voice.

“Yes, yes. But please, call me Ichabod. No need to stand on ceremony here.” She smiles and he catches the hint of a small angel’s kiss.

“Very well. Please, call me Laura. Unless that seems a bit informal to you. If so, Dr. Meeks will suffice.” She points to the chair he was just occupying.

“Sex therapy,” She begins taking a seat in the chair directly across from him and crossing her legs at the ankles, “Views sexual issues as being resolved by specifically addressing them, rather than by the assumption that when the individuals in a relationship work out the relationship issues, the sex will just fall into place. For years, I have had a practice full of couples for whom that simply was not true. I’m not going to be naïve about the ill effects that come as a result of hyper sexuality. My goal here is to simply try to address those through talk therapy. Any questions for me before we begin?” She clicks her pen and tilts her head eyeing him.

 _Sure_ , he thinks as he clears his throat. _Care if I hike up that sexy little skirt and fuck you to Sunday?_ Instead he simply shakes his head no.

Exactly an hour and twenty five minutes later he’s yet again on a crowded train, this time with no dick rubbing by a sexy stranger. He thinks about his session with Dr. Meeks. Surely she could help him. She could show him that there was life outside of this maniac obsession of his.

**Thursday 12:15 PM**

He’s back at it. Outside a fucking window, with his damn dick in his hand, watching _her._

The session with doctor Meeks did nothing but wet his appetite.

_“Tell me about your needs, sexually.” She had asked him, her pouty bottom lip making its way between her teeth. He tried to explain to her that his needs will never be fulfilled if he always has to depend on people. That sex is his most important need. Neither food, water, nor any article of clothing will ever take the place of sex for him._

_“Face it,” He told her exasperated. “I’m just an unworthy person. I have a beautiful wife, a successful business, a home I am proud to call mine, but it’s so easy for me to have sex with a complete stranger. My own wife can’t...” He trails off, shamed and embarrassed_.

 _“Help you achieve orgasm?” She says this huskily, twirling a lock of her curly hair. She’s baiting him. Daring him to make a move._ He shivers reliving the memory.

He’s chosen a different window this evening. After her threat to call the law, he doesn’t want to take any chances .His size twelve boot crunches on a branch and he stands still, eyes scanning the tree line around her house. He told his wife he would be home late tonight. He _lied_ to her. Only because he knew she was growing tired of his inability to finish. He was sure it was causing damage to her self esteem. So, instead of causing more pain for his personal failures he sleuthed his way to her house for a proverbial quickie.

Tonight, she wears a red thong that leaves her toned derriere showcased for his eyes only. She pivots, holding her perky breasts in each hand.  

He imagines himself, on his knees, face buried between her thighs. He groans imagining her sweet taste on his tongue. He’s freed himself and is stroking so furiously he doesn’t hear himself crying out. It’s not until the spotlight switches on and a police officer is ordering him to the ground, shoving him furiously, his still hardened length painfully on the earth,that he realizes he’s been caught.

**Private Office of Laura Meeks, PhD 11 AM**

**Two Weeks Later**

“Mr. Crane.”

He starts to tell her to call him Ichabod, but she’s looking at him strangely. As if she doesn’t quite know how to deal with him. It is a fleeting look and when he blinks again he sees she is looking at him, he realizes, as she always has. A patient of hers who needs her help.

He nods.

“The last time you were here we discussed your feelings regarding your sexual needs. Can you explain to me what happened that evening?”

And so he does. Every sordid detail. She doesn’t turn her nose up at him; she doesn’t cast a judgmental nor disapproving look at him. Instead she listens intently. She asks him how long he had been watching the woman through her window.

When he tells her two days she nods, smiles softly. He asks her why he can masturbate to a complex stranger and orgasm when he cannot reach an orgasm with his wife. She explains to him that what he is experiencing is sexual compulsivity. The tensions he feels are reduced by acting out on his feelings. He feels better for the moment when he orgasms as he watches her. He feels better for the moment. She patiently explains that compulsivity simply means that addicts regularly get to the point where sex, or a sexual act, becomes inevitable.She explains to him that his hyper sexuality can be addressed in a healthy manner. Explains that the woman who owned the home he was caught peeping at graciously dropped all charges with the promise that he would not return to her home for any reason.

He leaves feeling slightly uplifted. They discussed his sexual detachment from his wife, whom he admitted he loves dearly. He acknowledged his need to try a more rigorous route to overcome his sexual obsession.

**Sunday, 1:54 AM**

**One Week Later**

He stands outside her window, head tilted to the side as he watches her shave her long leg. She lifts her leg in the air and while inspecting her leg happens to catch a glimpse of him in the window. She screams, giving him ample time to run into the thick line of trees at the edge of her property. He runs until he can hear nothing but his footfalls on the forest floor. As he leans against a tree, trying to catch his breath he comes to a realization.

“I’m not sex addict,” he tells himself as he unzips himself. “I’m just a glutton for sex.” And with that he proceeds to stroke. He may not be able to return to her _house,_ he may still have to address his inability to reach an orgasm with his wife, but right now, in this moment all he wanted was the satisfaction that comes from his gluttonous appetite.

**FIN**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- Readers, please remember this is a one shot series. Each chapter will have its own theme (one of the seven deadly sins) and character pairing. As a writer I try to push my characters, I try to do things that haven’t been done before, and I try to not to be predictable. I typically do no write my characters out of character because we enjoy them as they are portrayed on our favorite show(s) but I had to have fun with them this time. I know that Ichabod would rather cut it off than be reduced to a nasty peeping Tom but hey, it’s fan fiction! 
> 
> The peeping Tom is obviously Ichabod. I changed the name of one of the characters to try and make it harder to guess who is who. Your options for wife, therapist, and woman in the window are Jenny, Abbie, and Katrina. Which woman do you think was each character?
> 
> Thank you for reading! And while I am still writing this challenge, they’ve been moved from one ficlet a week to one a month. Sorry guys, those are the rules. *sigh*


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